


At the Club

by morgan_cian



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Light BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:31:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan_cian/pseuds/morgan_cian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For <a href="http://hawk-soaring.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://hawk-soaring.livejournal.com/"></a><b>hawk_soaring</b> who gave me this as a prompt, per request: "One night at a private "Club". Pairing: your choice. The kinkier the better. The whole fic has to take place in the Club." Thanks for the kick in the pants.  I needed it! :P</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Club

White button up shirt, open at the collar. Nice blue jeans, decently frayed, hugged his ass. Comfortable shoes, hair carefully mussed, he stared at his reflection, his features pale and his stomach was knotted.

The drive passed in a blur. He engaged the security system, patting his pockets, keys, wallet, phone. The bass vibrated under his feet, the clubs were at peak performance this time of night, and he couldn't put it off any longer.

There wasn't a line; the bouncer looked him over before gesturing with a jut of his chin. He stepped into the darkened room and felt at a loss. A quiet snicker had him looking to his left.

It was a booth of a sort, shadowed and mysterious. The lighting was from below and behind, not above. He could make out leather, tats, and piercings, but no distinct features.

"Come here, pretty boy."

Gulping and knowing if he wanted admittance, he did what he was told. A large hand with meaty fingers reached out and latched on to his wrist dragging him forward. A bright red bracelet made of jelly plastic was cinched tightly.

"Wha?" He felt dumb and stupid as he blinked at it. It was like a smear of blood across his skin.

"The sharks will smell the blood in the water; you are fresh meat, pretty boy. Good luck." The man replied.

He heard a faint buzz and the doors opened to reveal bright lights and loud music, a hazy interior that beckoned him forward. His butterflies returned in a horde but he made himself take a step and then another and another until the door slammed with a heavy bang at his back.

He was in…hell, have mercy on his soul.

There was dancing and a bar, normal. The music was loud but exotic, weird strings that seem to bend sound instead of caress it. Staging areas, darkened hallways, and different colored bracelets everywhere, the players seemed to know their parts. He filled the role of the fool and way in over his head.

Sink or swim.

The bar seemed safe. He settled himself at the far end where his back was protected and he could view the rest of the club.

"You aren't here to hide, kid," the bartender placed a glass of water in front of him that he didn't ask for. He must have pulled a fish routine because the guy smiled full of white teeth and mirth, "We don't get many unclaimed here. You should be glad. Someone's already looking out for you. Subs normally don't drink unless their Doms allow it."

"I…" His throat was suddenly very dry. He tossed back the water like it was scotch and wiped his mouth, "Uh…"

The guy looked over his shoulder and nodded, "You certainly know how to pick 'em."

Before he could turn, a long arm matted with dark hair snaked around his waist and pulled him back. He kept ramrod straight even though the heat of the man behind him seemed to sink into his very skin.

"You are in the wrong place, boy," The voice was gravel and whisky, rough with promise, a burn in his belly. He tried to turn only to have the arm tighten. "You need it, don't you? You feel it? You want to be on your knees and taken care of?"

Feeling helpless and weakened, his head fell forward, chin to chest, and nodded. Stubble rasped against his ear, replaced by warmth of breath that made him shudder.

"How did you get in? It is a private club."

Fear flared followed on its heels was panic. He tried to pull away from the arms only to be lifted off the stool entirely. The tilt in equilibrium had him gasping. He was not a small guy by no means, but the faceless entity behind him lifted him like he was insubstantial.

His world was righted once more when his feet touched the floor and he was turned face to face with rugged features, calm eyes, and a firm hand on his shoulder. The hand moved slowly, a barely there of fingertip to cotton before fingers gripped his nape firmly.

"Is this really what you want?"

He licked his lips and shuddered, "Please."

The shadowed eyes studied him closely and finally nodded. The hand slipped from his nape, back to his shoulder, to slide down his arm to entwine their fingers together.

The hand was a like a life line leading him through bodies, keeping him moving when he became distracted by the whistle of the whip, the thud of the paddle, the cries that tightened his gut and made his knees weak.

"Your private room, sir?" They came to a momentary halt.

The dark head nodded slowly turning back to glance at him measuring. "For now, yes, we will need food and my kit as well."

Before he had time to think he was being tugged forward, up shadowed steps to a quieter part of the club. The room had the same feel of the rest of the club, shadowed and mysterious. He was glad that there wasn't anything like a bed with shackles or a St. Andrew's cross. His sense of euphoria was crushed.

"Strip."

He turned to meet the serious eyes; they were hazel in the dim light. His lips parted to argue but the eyes hardened in warning. Did he want this? Was he ready? Was he being a fool? Did he need to walk out the door, down the stairs, get in his car and forget that this had ever happened?

No. His trembling fingers went to the buttons and loosened them quickly while kicking out of his shoes. Not a complete idiot, he folded his clothes neatly and placed them on the floor. He shivered, feeling exposed standing in nothing but his boxers. A dark eyebrow winged up in challenge.

Gulping, his thumbs went to the waistband. Exhaling, he lowered them to the floor and stepped out. Trying not to think of his vulnerability, he folded them and added them to the pile. Straightening his first instinct was to cover himself but he fought it.

This was what he wanted; this is what he sought out. Rolling his shoulders back, tightening his spine, he let his hands hang loosely at his sides.

The heavy gaze was on him as he circled around and around once more. He could feel the heat and the press as the lips touched his ear once more, "Very good, boy."

He was able to breathe when he moved away once more. He crossed arms across a wide muscular chest and studied. He felt even more exposed.

"Let's start with something simple. Kneel."

He had read about, he had researched it. Hell, in the privacy of his room, he had practiced it. He let gravity ease the way until his knees were on soft, plush carpeting. Balance was found by placing his ass on his heels and spreading his thighs. Trying to think about his cock and balls hanging loosely, he laid his hands on his thighs, palms up and relaxed. His back straight once more, he looked forward but kept his eyes down.

His body jumped when fingers brushed over his hair. The hand went still to allow him to settle once more. He found himself needing that connection, that touch, so he pressed into it.

The quiet chuckle loosened the knots in his stomach. "Very nice, beautiful even, but I somehow I bet you get that a lot, don't you. So pretty, such a pretty mouth," A broad thumb swiped across his bottom lip. He felt the flush travel up his chest and across his face, he wanted to duck his head, to hide, but the thumb moved quickly to catch his chin.

"None of that, you don't have to hide from me, baby boy."

A knock on the door made him frown and turn away. It gave him a chance to breathe, to collect his thoughts, to try and ignore the warmth that the endearment caused.

The quiet snick had him composing himself once more. A chair was placed in front of him, the man before him with his thighs spread. He licked his lips once more. Was he supposed to? How did he? His thoughts started to bounce madly when the heavy hand settled against his nape once more, warm and comforting. The thoughts slid away and he sighed quietly.

"Again we are going to start off simple."

Something brushed against his lips and made him pull back in confusion. The hand returned again, the feel different. The weight was heavy with warning.

"You want to let go, the need inside of you burns deep in your belly," The words washed over him. "You don't need to think, you need to just be, let me." This time when the fingers brushed against his lips he opened his mouth.

"Close and chew."

It should have been humiliating. He was an adult not a child but those thoughts were inconsequential to the explosion of flavor against his tongue. His belly cheered him on, opening his mouth greedily each time, going as far to lap against the fingers touching him, wanting to chase the hint of taste the food carried.

When the finger slipped deep into his mouth allowing him to suck at will he moaned happily. The hand on his neck moved back into his hair, petting him and easing him.

"Good boy, I knew you would be a natural."

The fingers slipped from his mouth when he frowned. Too many times those words held bad memories, "a natural cocksucker," "a natural slut," "you would be a natural, get down on your knees," the thoughts rose in a tide that he had him looking down in shame. All those words had come true, how had they known this part of him when he didn't? The hateful things that had been suggested, it was what he had become. He was a freak just as all those from before had suggested.

Instead of his chin being lifted, warm hands went to his biceps, maneuvering him until he sat in the wide lap, arms wrapping about him, a hand easing his head until it rested against the waiting shoulder.

"You've been hurt, haven't you?"

He felt a little silly and a little embarrassed the slow sway comforted him, much like a child in its parents lap. Gentle kisses were placed against the crown of his head, stubble scratched across his temple.

"You are beautiful and strong. That's the crux of it, what you feel deep down but don't understand. Being able to let go, to put yourself in the care of another, takes so much strength."

He felt heavy eyed and relaxed. His body like modeling clay, his limbs shifted where they were put until he was face to face once more.

"I will take care of you, I will guide you, and this evening you will get a taste. Do you agree?"

Blinking, he nodded his head.

"You will answer yes or no and you will call me sir."

"Yes, sir," He amended hoarsely.

"Some of what you see may be overwhelming and it is not a sign of weakness when exploring limits and boundaries. Think of a word that you do not commonly say," There was a pause and the word came to him easily. "This is your safe word. It will let me know and I will adjust and remove you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

The hand went to his nape and soothed the nerves that had flared once more. How did he know?

"What is your safe word?"

"Richardson, sir."

The eyes softened and fingers ran through his hair, "Such a good boy." Then they disappeared. He wanted to whine but the sound of a zip distracted him.

"Look at me, baby boy."

When he looked up, he focused on the leather collar with a simple tag resting in the man's palms. His breath stuttered, he had read about that. Could he really be offering? And if he was, his eyes darted towards the door.

A low laugh made him blush.

"Now is not the time to get ahead of yourself, sweetheart. This is just a temporary transaction for this evening. This will let everyone know that you are mine." Strong fingers snapped the bracelet from his wrist. "I take care of what is mine." The same fingers then travelled over the soft leather. "There is much that goes before accepting a collar. A permanent collar would not look like this."

In his mind's eye, he could see the silver against his skin, he could feel the weight around his throat, he yearned for the feeling of possession.

"Do you understand the significance of this evening?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you accept my collar for this evening only?"

He licked his lips and leaned forward on instinct, baring his throat, and whispering, "Yes, sir."

It felt good, the leather supple, not too tight. He felt warm when he brushed a soft kiss against his forehead. It was only when he was lifted to his feet that he remembered he was naked as the day he was born. Panic crawled through him. And again, the warm embrace and tender words soothed him and brought him down once more.

He was only allowed his jeans, unbuttoned and hanging onto his hips. He wanted to question, bit his lip to make the words work its way out of him, but the broad palm cupped his ass and drew him forward until he curved into the warmth of his body.

"So beautiful."

He expected a leash to be threaded through the ring at his throat; he expected to crawl on his knees behind him in supplication. An arm curved around him protectively, gentle pressure moving and guiding him was the last thing that he expected to happen.

He was led to a shadowed alcove first and moved forward so that he was at his back.

"Just watch, baby boy."

He started to see a naked man standing before a woman dressed in leather and heels with his hands behind his back and his head down. He could barely make out the collar.

As they watched, she never raised her voice or touched him. She circled him and talked lowly and her voice the tension slowly relaxed. When she reached out and cupped his chin, he followed her touch. When she kissed him, he melted into her.

Hunger leapt in his belly making him gasp audibly.

A kiss to his neck got his attention and they were moving again.

The next was a viewing room, for observation but not distraction to its inhabitants. He paused and cocked his head to the side. There was a figure stretched out on a table, covered completely from head to toe. The fabric was black and he shuddered at the thought of being lost in the dark. He tried to step back and ran into the solid wall behind him.

“What is it, baby boy?”

“How…why,” He coughed as his chest tightened, “What if they smother, what if they can’t get out, what if…” His voice rose in his panic.

Arms held him and lips brushed his neck with a, “Shhhhhhhh….” And a switch inside of him flipped in response, his body boneless in the arms about him, trusting that he wouldn’t fall. The arms tightened and he got a growl of approval.

“What you are seeing is sensory deprivation, a limit discussed between Dom and sub. He’s not alone; his Dom is sitting beside him.” And he blushed at that, looking passed the submerged figure to the man dressed elegantly in open shirt and slacks, a matching jacket draped across his lap. “They have negotiated a signal that will alert the Dom if it gets to be too much, the safe word we discussed, if you will. The fact that he is not struggling within in his confines shows that he is deep enough, safe enough to let go. He knows that his Dom is there if he needs him.”

Feeling oddly reassured and safe, he was moved along to an open room. Couples were grouped around a small spot lighted stage, quiet whispers flowing about. He turned his head into the warmth of his chest. The couples were Doms and Dommes with their subs. He felt a connection, a belonging being held tightly in his arms. The hand moved to his chin and directed his gaze to the stage. It was another male couple.

The sub had his wrists bound and stretched above his head. It was not an overtaxing stretch but his legs were being held open by a spreader bar. His head was tipped forward, eyes covered by a blindfold. He wore a leather harness across his chest and thighs.

Squinting he could see the cock and balls harness as well as nipple clamps. Just the thought made his own nipples burn with sympathy. He was not gagged but his body was straining and glistening with sweat. His question must have been evident because the comforting breath ghosted over his ear, “He is being tested on how long he can keep quiet. His Dom has added weights to both his balls and his nipples. It will stop when he cries out.”

“Sir?”

Lips smiled against neck, “Yes, sweetheart.”

“You’ve done this before?”

A seed of doubt began to crawl as the silence stretched, “Yes.”

He got no other explanation. On and on it went, some things made him curious, others made him want to run but he held steady with in the safety of the arms that held him.

Until the last room.

The smell assaulted his nose first followed by the strange texture of the floor. The sub was strapped down and crying out. He was being fucked by what could only be called a fucking machine. He had heard of them and was not repulsed by the idea. It was the sight that made him nauseous and had him digging in his heels.

The machine was connected to an overly large dildo set at high setting. He could see the red, swollen hole distended as it tried to compensate. But it was the sounds of cruel laughter, mocking words by more than person circling about the bound man that sickened him. Some had their cocks hanging out and at first he thought they were jacking off over him.

Until.

He turned sharply burrowing into the arms that held him, panting out, “Richardson, please, Richardson, make it stop.”

He was lifted over a shoulder and carried quickly back to the sanctity of the quiet, private room. He thought it was the same only the room contained a bed that the last had not. He was laid upon sweet smelling clean sheets and stripped of his pants. A strange lethargy settled into his very bones and things were blurry.

A hand to his hair had him stirring before the hand moved to cup his nape and lifted. A bottle of water was tipped against his lips and he drank greedily.

The collar was gone and he looked up into Jeff’s smiling face.

“Welcome back.”

Jenson blushed and looked away.

“Uh uh, none of that,” Jeff said low and firm, “You have to talk to me.

Jensen let his head fall back into the pillow and covered his eyes with his arm, “Damn.”

Jeff simply pulled him into his arms and nuzzled his hair. “Good, bad, what you expected?”

Pulling back, Jensen considered, “It is more overwhelming here than what we do at home, more impersonal, I don’t think I would like to be on display.”

Jeff nodded, “With your shy nature, it was what we expected. You went further than I thought.”

“There were things that I would like to try in our own playroom; sensory deprivation has me curious and maybe caning.”

“Really?”

Jensen nodded, “I want to try and test my pain tolerance and limits.”

“Okay. And the last?”

“Oh fuck no, you ever piss on me, literally, I’ll cut your dick off in your sleep.” Jensen could see Jeff holding back a grin and huffed. “I know you told me that would be a hard limit but fuck, seeing made a believer outta me.”

Jeff laughed out right and tipped down to kiss Jensen breathless. When the need for oxygen reared its ugly head, he merely pressed their foreheads together. “You ready to call it a night and go home or do you want to stay? I have the room for the night.”

A familiar feel of nerves and need wound its way in his gut. He bit his lip and looked up into Jeff’s loving eyes. “Stay.”

“Of course.” Jeff cupped his face, “My baby boy.”

With all the decadent delights of the club, he was surprised when Jeff laid him on his back and sucked him off. Then using mouth and hands touched every part of him. He was opened gently, no toys, no bizarre lube, just Jeff sinking deep into him and connecting them.

When his second orgasm boiled out of him, leaving him wrecked and spent Jeff held him close, whispering to him, kissing him before seeking out his own orgasm. Jensen drifted off into oblivion thinking about his night at the club and how he would like to visit again.


End file.
